


Apostate Youth

by cecilkirk



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Fluff, High School AU, M/M, Ryden, trans!Ryan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:05:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6280222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilkirk/pseuds/cecilkirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prom night should have been Ryan's dream, but it turned out to be a nightmare. Luckily, Brendon and Spencer made it worthwhile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apostate Youth

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warning: mild, brief gender dysphoria

When Brendon came to the door, Ryan felt nothing but relief. Small, fleeting relief, but it was something.

He greeted Ryan with a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek, but Ryan could see the empathetic sadness in his eyes. Ryan knew he was only mirroring what he saw in his, how he projected Ryan to feel.

He was completely right in his assumption.

Ryan went upstairs to his room. He looked at Brendon briefly before closing the door, loving the way he looked in his tux and equally wishing they could be matching. As he closed his bedroom door and faced his mother inside, he knew they never could.

 

 

A half hour later, Ryan descends the stairs. He notices that his fingers are starting to tremble, so he hides newly formed fists in his billowy skirt. He notices that Brendon is looking at him with some mixture of what he feels (sadness, helplessness) and what he wants Ryan to feel (bravery, confidence, calmness). 

He hears his mom comment about how beautiful he looks, using his birth name. Ryan can feel anxiety creeping under his skin.

Between the descent and posing for pictures with Brendon, Ryan shut off his mind. He couldn't let himself process what his world was coming to, that all his work was being undone, that his biggest fear was quietly, steadily enveloping him.

With his mom's words and Brendon's nervous laughter filling his ears, it was easy to block out his thoughts. But as soon as he sat in Brendon's car in silence, everything came flooding in.

He didn't know what to do.

Tears began to slip down his face, angry, bitter, frustrated tears he hated more for where they stemmed from than their existence. His breath is shallow and ragged in his ears; the more he breathes, the more he becomes aware of the bra tightening around his ribs, the corset threatening to crack his bones.

In his lap, among the ruffles and taffeta, his hands are free to shake and convulse completely. 

Brendon takes one, interlacing fingers to ease the trauma. 

"It'll be okay," he says, starting the car with his free hand, looking at Ryan with wide, electric eyes. "It'll be okay."

"I can't do it," Ryan chokes out, aware of the wheeze clotting his throat. "I can't, I can't go, I can't--"

"It's okay," Brendon says. "It's okay. We won't go."

Ryan blinks, releasing residual drops of heat. Brendon had spent so much money renting a tux, making dinner reservations...what did this mean? He wanted to go--Ryan knew he did. Was he doing this just because Ryan asked?

Bitterness sits heavy in Ryan's gut. "If you want to go, we--"

"No," Brendon interjects, more pointedly this time. "You won't have fun, so I won't have fun."

Brendon's eyes are focused on the road, his thumb focused on rubbing Ryan's. 

"Are you sure?" Ryan whispers. He knows he would be nothing short of miserable at prom, but he doesn't want Brendon to be missing out on something so important. "It's prom, after all."

"I don't care," he says. "It's not as important as you being happy."

Ryan realizes they are not going in the direction of the school. Buoyant happiness begins to fill his chest, and Brendon brings Ryan's hand up to press absentminded kisses to his fingers. He knows where they're going.

 

 

As they pull into Brendon's driveway, Ryan notices Spencer's car is parked there.

"I hope you don't mind," Brendon says. "I thought we could enjoy the night. Y'know, just some guys hanging out."

Ryan grins. He can feel dried tears crack on his cheeks. "No," he says softly. "I don't mind."

Inside, Brendon ducks into his room quickly and comes back with an armload of clothes.

"If you want," he offers, handing them to Ryan. Ryan examines the hoodie and sweats, and loves that they will smell like Brendon. He knew they were from the dresser drawer Brendon devoted to old clothes too small for him but perfect for Ryan. He flashes Brendon a grin before changing in the bathroom down the hall, and his throat tightens. Between the layers Brendon had put a brand new pack of boxers, just for Ryan.

He fights to keep himself from crying again.

When he enters the living room again, Brendon beams. It's deep, genuine, like sunshine personified. In ratty jeans and a worn shirt Brendon wraps his arms around Ryan, and unlike at Ryan's home, he wraps tight around his waist, like he never wants to let go, even for a moment. Brendon presses adoring kisses into Ryan's neck, fisting his hoodie where it sits at his lower back and muttering words of comfort into his skin:  _You're so brave. I'm so proud of you. You're so wonderful._

Ryan ducks his head to kiss him. It's more of a smile than anything structured, but Brendon returns the kiss nonetheless.

"Hey," Brendon says, lowering his voice and thumbing Ryan's cheek. "Do you want me to...?" His eyes flit over Ryan's eyes and cheeks, where his mother applied copious amounts of makeup.

"Yeah," he says. "Please."

The corner of Brendon's lip curls up. He takes Ryan's hand, leads him to the kitchen, and sits him on a stool.

"I can just use water, right?" Brendon asks, ripping off paper towel from the holder above the sink.

"Yeah," Ryan says. Anything more efficient might break his heart. He can't afford that at this moment.

Brendon wets a handful of paper towel under the faucet and flicks on the kitchen radio. Some mix CD is playing--something Brendon made, indubitably--and Brendon turns it up far louder than necessary.

As Brendon wipes away Ryan's makeup, he dances, he sings, he nods his head to the beat. He works steadily, keeping his focus. Brendon was good at focusing on what was at hand. He knew where to place his priorities.

After a few minutes, Brendon's eyes flicker over Ryan's features and squint in examination. "Looking good, champ," he says, knowing it's the right level of embarrassment to make Ryan grin.

"Some of us are trying to live peaceful lives," Spencer says from the kitchen's threshold. Ryan's grin widens.

"That's no fun," Brendon chimes in.

"You know me," Spencer says, toeing the metal threshold. "I'm more an all-night movie kind of guy."

"Yeah?" Brendon asks to be facetious. "Well, we just might have to take you up on that."

 

 

 

"I'm sorry, guys," Spencer says, drumming his fingers on Ryan's shins. "I really gotta get home."

"It's not even midnight," Ryan whines. His head is on Brendon's lap, and Brendon's fingers in his hair evaporated the stress keeping him introverted.

"Yes," Spencer says, prying Ryan's legs from his, "but some of us have jobs."

"You didn't need to take the early shift," Brendon quips up.

Spencer clicks his tongue in annoyance, looking down at Brendon as he stretches. "Oh, fuck you. Someone's gotta pay for our movie date popcorn."

Ryan looks down at the four nearly-empty bowls flush against the foot of the couch. Spencer had a point.

"Fine, fine," Brendon says in mock annoyance. "Enjoy your night alone. We don't care."

Spencer scoffs, his smile breaking the fabricated tension. "See you two later." He touches Ryan's knee briefly, looking right into his eyes. "Love you, man."

He leaves Ryan with an easy smile before heading upstairs.

"Hanging in there, bud?" Brendon asks.

Ryan throws his arms over his face, blotting out the light. "Yeah, yeah," he says through a yawn.

"Hey, none of that," Brendon says. "It's too early."

"Never too early," Ryan contests. "No such thing."

Brendon rubs Ryan's shoulder, thumbing his collarbone. "It's never too early for dancing."

Ryan giggles, low and throaty because he's on his back and absolutely exhausted. "What?"

"We didn't get to share a dance tonight, and I want to more than anything," he says.

Ryan blinks up at him. The smile dies on his lips. "You want to go back?" he whispers.

"No, no," Brendon says, moving his hand to rub Ryan's cheek. "But we can still dance together. I think the radio's still on upstairs." He grins, helping Ryan to sit up.

 

 

 

As they approach the kitchen, the radio is still on but mute. The CD had ended.

"I--I made one for tonight," Brendon stammers, words preceding a nervous cough.

Ryan feels heat begin to bloom on his cheeks. Had he really thought that far ahead? "You did?" 

"Yeah," Brendon says, turning as it begins to play. "Just--just in case tonight didn't go as well as it could." He puts his hands on Ryan's waist, kissing his cheek. "You deserve tonight to go well."

"So do you," Ryan says as he puts his arms around Brendon's neck. "You deserve a memorable prom. I don't want to keep you from it."

"You never could," Brendon says into Ryan's neck. "This isn't going how I had pictured it, but I couldn't wish for anything more."

Ryan rests his head against Brendon's. Their cheeks meet, exchanging deep, hidden warmth. They find the rhythm and move in short, slow steps with it.

"I'm so lucky," Brendon says, pulling his head back to look at Ryan.

"Why?"

"Because I have you," he says.

Ryan grits his teeth.

"No, you're not," he says. "I'm a mess. You shouldn't be responsible for cleaning me up."

Brendon's eyes begin to catch light the way they do when Ryan's offhanded self-loathing breaks his heart. "You are who you are. I don't mind."

"But really, Brendon," Ryan says, sadness beginning to creep into the space between them. "I'm sorry."

"Please don't say that," Brendon says. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I do," Ryan says evenly. "I have too many things."

Brendon frowns, looking into Ryan's eyes to find what he needs to say as comfort. "I am fortunate to witness you become the person you want to be. It's not clean or easy, and I can't possibly imagine it, but I am not burdened by your journey. I only hope you'll let me join you."

Mixing in Ryan's ears are the words dripping from the shotty radio speakers and the words he can't believe are marching from Brendon's lips.

"Always," Ryan promises. "I couldn't do it without you."

Brendon kisses Ryan's forehead, holding his face with both hands. He keeps pressing kisses against Ryan's skin, into his hair, muttering something Ryan can't hear.

"What?"

Brendon ducks his head, lips inches and seconds from Ryan's.

"I love you," he says.

Ryan blinks, heart skipping through a beat. He knows it's anything but fear.

"I love you too," he says.

Brendon's face erupts in a wide grin coupled with fresh tears welling in his eyes. Ryan pulls him in for a hug.

And they dance--they dance the night away, slow songs becoming faster, deep affection becoming lighthearted joy. Through the kitchen window they watch the stars fade as light begins to grace the horizon. Ryan has never felt more at peace. He had his prom night--every teenager's dream. As someone who never followed the norm, Ryan feels he should have known his prom could never be something normal or ordinary; he could never have spent a night with the love of his life in a gym surrounded by people he'd forget in five years. But this--a night filled with love and friendship and support and comfort--this was something Ryan could find ordinary. 

As the sun begins to rise and exhaustion sits heavy in his eyelids, Ryan kisses Brendon as they sleep together on the living room couch. Somewhere, years ago, they had both abandoned normalcy. Ryan finally accepted he never wanted to go back.


End file.
